


Harryincrease

by Toralyzer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toralyzer/pseuds/Toralyzer
Summary: Harry won the war, graduated school, and is quite glad to no longer be the center of attention. But he receives a rude awakening when he discovers someone is still writing about him.





	Harryincrease

There was nothing about the cloudy sky that morning to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening.

Well, okay. Maybe he should have seen it coming.

"Hey, Dad!  _ Dad!" _

Harry crushed down his mouthful of Fairy Rings and blinked at his son, still bleary-eyed from sleep. "Albus? What have you got there, is that a magazine?"

_ "Look!" _ Albus said, slamming the magazine onto the table. Harry caught the milk before it toppled. "Right here, right here!"

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, leaning in closer. If he was being honest, he was expecting to see some kind of product that the boys would absolutely  _ need _ to get for Christmas.

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

**Albus Potter and the Furry Community**

_ A young boy’s encounter with the beautiful and the beastly _

> Albus Potter may have been the son of The Boy Who Lived (and who went on to do more than that), but this was no guarantee of his own fame. In fact, once Albus reached Hogwarts, he began to find that companions to whom he could truly relate were few and far between. It’s no surprise, then, that the young boy began to look elsewhere for friendship - including a nationwide owling list connecting fans of anthropomorphic animals, also known as “furries”. There, Albus made fast friends with whom he corresponded regularly, including by “roleplaying” as their own furry personas. Albus - or, as he was known on the list, Sleekfeather Cinderpaw - often felt he could be more himself in these letters than with anyone else, and they sometimes seemed to awaken a stirring he could not name, and which he feared to tell anyone about.  _ Story continued on pg. 7 ➤ _
> 
> _ See pg. 14 for the full list of Harry Potter & co fursonas ➤ _

The longer he read, the wider Harry’s eyes became. “This is - this is a bit  _ personal, _ isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Albus cried.

Harry glanced at page 7 to see where the story went, and nearly choked on his milk. "W’oo  _ wrote _ this?" he stumbled, the words 'What is this' and 'Who wrote this' getting mixed up on the way to his brain.

"Well, it's -" Albus shrugged, gesticulating vaguely. "I mean - who else?"

Harry flipped quickly through the glossy pages. He could find no author credits of any kind, although articles and inserts jumped out at him with titles along the lines of  _ Why Hagrid Was the Best Teacher Hogwarts Has Ever Known, How We’d Take Each of the OG Potter Crew On a Date, _ and _ The Top 20 Times Ginny Weasley Was Savage. _

Finally he got to the cover, where the name  _ “Rita Skeeter” _ \- who else - was printed beside an appropriately vague  _ “and Contributors” _ , underneath a huge, elegant title, made to look like a scrawled signature:

_ Harryincrease _

_ "Harry increase _ ?" Harry mouthed incredulously.

“Yes!” said Albus frantically. “Teddy just owled me one! It’s - he says they’re  _ everywhere _ where he lives! And, I mean... and they’re all...” He wrung his hands anxiously.

Harry looked the magazine over back to front, equal parts bewildered and disturbed. “Rita Skeeter - I haven’t heard that name in  _ years.” _

Albus’s eyes got wide. “I heard this  _ rumor _ about her -”

“Oh - yeah,” Harry said, realizing. “Hermione found out in our fourth year. That she’s -”

“That she’s really a Muggle named Joanne Rowling!”

Harry blinked.

“And that’s why she  _ writes.  _ Cause she can’t do magic herself!”

“Er... maybe. But - hold on -” Harry was looking at the list of Harry Potter & co fursonas. “Why would my - why would your granddad’s animal persona be a  _ lion? _ He  _ literally  _ turned into a stag!”

_ “I _ don’t know!”

Harry was skimming down the page. “Why - Why am I a  _ fox?” _

“I don’t know!”

“Is this all just...” He trailed off in shock, as his eyes were drawn to a column enumerating  _ Sirius Black's Top 10 Funniest Moments. _ “How - how would she  _ know _ all of this? Does she -”

“Oh, and  _ that’s _ the thing!” Albus blurted. “All that, but it never says  _ anything _ about - you know - me and Scorpius!” He dabbed self-consciously.

“What?” Harry blinked at him. “Er, but you two are - I mean -”

“Yeah!” Albus exclaimed. “It’s as if it thinks I’m  _ straight!” _

“Circe’s staff,” Harry swore.

He shut the magazine quickly and shook himself. He blinked over at Albus. There was a moment of silence between them.

“So, is, er...” Harry tapped the magazine awkwardly. “Was that article... you know...  _ true, _ or...?”

“No!” said Albus, getting a bit red in the face. “I mean,  _ kind _ of! Not  _ really! I _ don’t know!”

Harry’s first course of action was to Floo-call Hermione - even if, egghead that she was, she would probably just tell him to read another book. He knelt on the grate cushions and stuck his head through, spinning up to peer out into a stately office, and reflecting rather ashenly that this would never really be as comfortable as a phone call.

“Harry!” Hermione, in her wide-shouldered business suit, got primly to one knee and peered in at him. “What is it? Is there an emergency?”

“Er - not exactly,” he said, a little sheepish now that he was here.

“Great,” said Hermione, clicking a little button on her watch. “Three minutes, then. What do you need?”

“Hermione, it’s a Saturday! What are you so busy with?”

“Well,” Hermione said, with no inflection, “I thought this weekend I’d do a spot of running the country. Two minutes forty-five.”

“Right,” Harry said, hurrying up. “Okay, have you - have you seen that new Rita Skeeter thing?”

“I’m aware of it,” Hermione nodded. “I have not read it. I’m not a fan.”

“No, um - I know. But don’t you - don’t you have, you know, leverage on her? Since when is she able to dish about all our lives?”

“Harry.” Hermione looked at him like he was a low-level Ministry pencil pusher, or perhaps a child. “I’m the Minister of Magic. I daresay if I’m going to have outstanding blackmail, it should be on someone a  _ touch  _ more important than a journalist who wrote about me when I was fourteen. Parody!" she added for the benefit of the Department of Surveillance. "Parody, not an admission of anything!"

“Right,” Harry said, quite wishing she had just sent him to check out  _ Tabloids: A History _ again. “Well, that’ll be my three minutes, then. Thanks, Hermione.”

“Thanks for dropping in, Harry. I do hope we get to spend some quality time together once the economy stabilizes.” At that, she smoothly stood up and returned to her desk.

Rita Skeeter swiveled her lime green chair around as the door to her printing hideout aggressively, and magically, swung open.

“Harry!” she squealed, watching the unmistakeable dark-haired figure march through the door. “Oh, my dear, it’s been so long! And however did you locate my little bungalow here?”

“Cop powers,” Harry said coolly.

“Of  _ course,” _ Rita gushed delightedly. “I know all about how you’re a cop! Not a magizoologist, or a teacher.”

“What?”

_ “So,” _ she said, licking her lips as if tucking in for a particularly appetizing meal, “I suppose you’ve seen my new publication, haven’t you?”

_ “Seen _ it?” Harry said incredulousy. He stormed up to Rita and shoved the magazine in her face. “I’m the damn title!”

“Mmm, I know.” Rita frowned. “Not the  _ most _ catchy, is it? We considered going with  _ Potter more, _ but that’d be a bit on-the-nose, wouldn’t it?”

“Listen, Rita,” Harry said, fuming. “This is a new low. My  _ children _ don’t need to raked across the headlines the way I was.”

“Oh, but people want to  _ know!” _ Rita trilled. “I mean, we got so  _ little _ about the family while you were still in the public eye. People  _ need _ content, you know. They  _ demand _ more Potter.”

Harry shook his head. “But this -” He flipped quickly through the magazine, landing on the article  _ The Hidden Passions of Minerva McGonagall. _ “This isn’t even  _ true!  _ Minerva doesn’t date men! You’re just  _ making up _ new details, long after the fact! You’re just desperate to keep the brand going!”

“Oh, my, no!” Rita shook her head quickly, offended. “Every bit of this is true. It’s true in the fans’ eyes. And every new revelation changes everything that came before it. It’s so exciting, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Harry made a face. “Is it better than just leaving things how they were?”

“New traffic is  _ always _ better,” Rita said decisively.

Harry stared at her, feeling a bit like he was hitting a brick wall.

“Okay, but what about - what about  _ this?” _ Harry flipped to another article. “I think... I mean, that’s not  _ okay, _ is it? This might not be my place to say, but -”

“Oh, of  _ course, _ the article on how the staircase to the girl’s dorm checks for a Y chromosome,” Rita smiled. “I support women’s rights,” she said simply.

“But, I mean -” Harry began, quite uncomfortably. “I don’t mean to assume, but aren’t  _ you - ?” _

“Oh, my, no!” Rita chuckled a few perfect notes. “Tried being a trans woman for a bit. Didn’t like it. I find being a cis woman much easier, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry blinked at her.

Then he asked, before he could stop himself, “You’re, uh - you’re not secretly a Muggle named Joanne Rowling, are you?”

“Oh, that’s a  _ good _ one!” Rita exclaimed. “People  _ love _ it when somebody turns out to be somebody else!”

“Listen, Rita,” Harry said, finding himself at a loss. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? We’ve settled down. All the big adventures are over. Let them be over.”

Rita shook her head, primly, like there was no brooking the objection. “Well, you’ve become such a  _ legend, _ my dear. You’re such a powerful escapist fantasy. Everyone just wants to know more, more,  _ more  _ about it all!”

Harry stared weakly at an article on how Peeves was created in a tragic cabinet accident. “Why would anybody even  _ believe _ this stuff?”

“Because they want to, dear,” Rita said gently. “They want to believe that your story, your  _ world _ as they understand it, is real, and internally consistent, and has always been exactly the same. It’s just easier. Easier than picking out the good bits and the bad.”

“But, I mean -” Harry struggled to find the words. “If all that stuff I went through really  _ meant _ something to people, then... how does this do it justice?” He waved the magazine in the air. “Isn’t this just breaking down any meaning it had?”

Rita just looked at him. “I haven’t the foggiest what you mean, dear boy.”

Harry looked back. Her smile was pleasant, and bland, and quite unflappable.

“Okay,” he said suddenly, flipping to a new page. “Then, then - at least answer me this.  _ Who _ is this ‘Newt Scamander’ bloke?”

“Oh,  _ you _ know!” Rita said, delighted. “The author of  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ ?”

“The - the textbook?” Harry asked, bewildered. “What is  _ he  _ doing here?”

“Well, we were thinking of branching out.” Rita sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Not sure if it’s going to take.”

Harry looked down at the article for a moment, which detailed the top 7 spells that both Harry Potter and Newt Scamander were known to use.

He sighed.

“If you want something new, couldn’t you just... make something new?” He closed the magazine and looked Rita in the face. “If people  _ loved _ reading about, you know, my time at Hogwarts... dealing with the Dark Arts, and fighting Tom Riddle, and everything... maybe tell a  _ new  _ story. Something that’s kind of like that... but different?” Harry tapped on the  _ “and Contributors” _ on the cover. “I don’t even know who’s doing this with you. But, I mean... surely out there, there’s someone who can bring fresh ideas to the - the whole thing. Scout some fresh stories. And let the people you write about tell it on their  _ own  _ terms. Doesn’t that sound... I don’t know...  _ better?” _

Rita looked at him for a long time.

“Harry sells,” she said simply, poking the cover insistently with her finger.

“I guess I do,” Harry said sadly.

And with that, he got up and left her alone.

It was still the beginning of winter break, and a weekend, and he and Ginny were spending some quality time with the kids. The five of them were playing a very silly game of Pumpkins to Pumpkins, and James was telling them about a Quidditch variant he’d invented called “Ultra Quidditch”, which was where you didn’t use the Snitch. They’d all had a talk about the magazine earlier.

It was alright, Harry mused, as he played the card “Hungry” and watched it shuffle ominously toward the pile. There had always been the good and the bad. He had  _ loved _ Hogwarts, he still did, but looking back, he didn’t quite love the way Filch was treated, or Trelawney. And he couldn’t really justify the lack of diversity in the student body. And the whole House-Elf situation really had been  _ pretty  _ darn uncomfortable before Hermione made the Ministry intervene.

You were allowed to move forward, he thought. Do it differently next time. Learn another spell.

His scar had not pained him for 23 years, other than a brief stint on Broadway. All was well.


End file.
